


He Dreams

by thisbluegirl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Ant-Man (2015) Post-Credits Scene, Did I mention angst, M/M, Nightmares, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Sad Steve is Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5818909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbluegirl/pseuds/thisbluegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers has lived a lifetime of nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this all on [glitteratiglue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue) and her glorious Stucky angst. I fell in and I can't get out.

He dreams of animals, wild-eyed, ready to chew through bone to escape the snare.

He dreams of winter, snow, an endless white void, no distinction between sky and horizon.

He dreams of metal, glinting in the sun, gleaming in the moonlight, always cold.

He wakes with the pressure of a hand on his chest, a phantom.

***

You wouldn’t think Captain America would have nightmares, but Steve can’t remember a time when he didn’t. Even as a child, in dreams the constriction of his lungs manifested itself as a shadow clutching with its iron fist, tighter, tighter, until he woke gasping and terrified. When he enlisted, when the serum replaced his weak and sickly body with a beautiful, strong, healthy one, he thought the nightmares were over. But they were at war, and the reality of war was something his subconscious mind could never have begun to imagine. Then Bucky’s unit was captured, and Steve doesn’t think he slept at all for weeks, his search for Bucky a waking nightmare all its own.

***

He dreams of blue like drowning, cold like a thousand knives.

He dreams of a stranger with a familiar face and someone else’s eyes.

He dreams of falling.

In the dark, he feels an icy hand close around his throat. He wakes with a start. No one’s there.

***

In the months with the Howling Commandoes, he was often too exhausted to dream. When the nightmares came, Bucky was there, sliding onto the bedroll with him, slinging one arm over Steve’s chest, just like when they were kids. With his big body – Steve still thinks of Bucky as the bigger one – he held the dreams at bay. On the train, Steve lived the most vivid nightmare of all, reaching for Bucky as he fell. Soon, the only thing Steve could dream about was falling. Soon, Steve would think of falling so often, when he found himself faced with the decision to crash the Valkyrie, it wasn’t a decision at all. _Finally_ , he thought, _finally. The end of the line, pal._

***

He dreams of bodies in the dark, slick and hot.

He dreams of a dead forest, the ground under his feet slippery with blood and rain.

He dreams of wolves gathering, the subsonic rumble of a snarling pack.

A blade slips between his ribs and he clutches at the wound, blood spilling in a hot rush over his fingers. He wakes screaming. No blade. No blood.

***

He doesn’t remember any dreams from the ice. Could he have gone 70 years without a nightmare? For a while, after being pulled out of limbo, the dreams were all the same, crashing into the frigid water again and again, the wash of unconsciousness from impact gradually bleeding into hypothermia. Slowly, the dreams work backwards. First it’s Peggy’s voice. Then Howard’s. Then the Howlies. Bucky. The dreams always, always come back to Bucky.

***

He dreams of a mask, a ghost, a shadow.

He dreams of hands, warm and gentle, a mouth, soft, yielding.

He dreams of buildings falling around him, aliens in the skies, a god, an assassin, an archer, a red iron suit, a green monster.

A metal fist reaches into his chest, closes around his heart, tears. The face belongs to his friend, the eyes to a stranger. He wakes shaking with cold on the bank of the Potomac River.

***

Bucky is alive. Steve can’t sleep, _won’t_ sleep until he finds him. Until he sees the spark of recognition in a dead man’s eyes. Until Bucky is safe beside him in the dark. Until he finds a way to keep the nightmares at bay.

***

When they find him, trapped like a wounded animal, wild-eyed, ready to chew off his arm to escape the past, he remembers Steve’s mother and the newspapers in Steve’s shoes. And Steve knows he will face any nightmare, waking or asleep, to bring Bucky back.

***

He dreams of a smile he had long forgotten.

He dreams of a head on his shoulder, long hair falling across his neck.

He dreams of hands, warm and gentle, a mouth, soft, yielding.

He wakes to recognition in a dead man’s eyes, fingertips barely brushing his across the wide expanse of a safehouse bedspread. Steve smiles. He has borne a century of nightmares and will bear a century more if it means he can keep this. For the first time he can remember, Steve sleeps without fear.


End file.
